Chapter 18
I’m so relieved that my mother has not set me up with Finn that when she suggests I go on not one but two dates this week, I agree. Of course I have a date, or rather an appointment, to see a movie with Finn on Saturday but she doesn’t know that. It’s a work commitment. We are merely researching a film for our presentation.
I try to remember that each date gets me closer to my goal of being done with her silly plan but I admit she’s really thriving in her role as my dating coach. I think after decades of being in the classroom, it was hard for her to find a purpose when she retired. Then Shug passed and she began to fade into the background a bit. Personally, I love the thought of blending into the world around me but it does not suit my mother. She enjoys being in the center of things, and taking charge of my dating life and working at Plant Daddy has helped her reclaim her spotlight.
Last night’s date wasn’t even terrible. I had an early coffee on the Upper West Side with a perfectly fine landscape architect with glasses that were so severely horizontal it looked like he was wearing a shelf on his eyebrows. He was an intelligent guy with a graduate degree in Environmental Engineering from Seoul National University, but the conversation had too many awkward silences and monologues that didn’t go anywhere. My mind wandered, and I kept thinking about being at the boardwalk on Coney Island with Finn and the ease of chatting with him. That said, I learned about the importance of rainwater conservation for irrigation from my coffee date, and I even put the guy in touch with a person I interviewed on the Surentox campaign who had just bought a property in Bucks County to do some sustainable farming. This morning, the Horizontal Glasses guy sent me a very polite ‘We’re not a match’ text which was followed by a ‘Thank you so much’ text from the guy with the farm who had already contacted Horizontal Glasses to discuss some soil irrigation projects.
This evening I’m scheduled to meet Keshawn Fulani – a man my mother met at the Apple Store when she went to the Genius Barn to update them on her ongoing saga with a printer she’s been on bad terms with for over a decade. When I agreed to let her be my dating coach, I had no idea she would have such an endless supply of available gay men. It’s like she spent the summer selling reserved seating for the Fire Island ferry. By now, I should have learned never to underestimate my mother.
We planned to meet in Gramercy Park, a charming neighborhood packed with small, intimate cafes. Keshawn was keen on the location, but it was difficult to nail him down on a specific restaurant. We agreed to meet on the south side of the park in front of the flickering gas streetlamps. The wrought iron balconies on the brownstones that line the block are decorated with pumpkins and gourds, making the historic buildings feel cozy and inviting.
Meeting a blind date is always awkward, even under the best of circumstances, and these are far from that. Now that Mom isn’t having them meet me at the apartment like she did with Kevin, I confirm a date and time and she has the prospective date text me. I imagine arranging illegal outcall massage is not so different from this.
On the other end of the block, I make out a handsome guy with a flattop and close fade. He’s wearing black jeans and a red shirt matching the description Keshawn gave me. As he approaches me, I notice he’s holding his phone in front of him and maybe taking a selfie as he walks, which seems both strange and incredibly dangerous. I wave, and the guy waves back, so he must be Keshawn, but he doesn’t move his outstretched arm. It’s clear now that he’s on some kind of video chat. I assume he’ll hang up by the time he reaches me, but he doesn’t.
‘Hello, I’m Sam.’
‘Hey guys!’ he says, looking up at his phone with that awful cadence you hear on social media videos. ‘So, like I said, I’m about to meet my date. I put the two restaurants in the Vibe chat. What do you think? Italian or Thai? Voting begins now and don’t forget to like and follow.’ His voice is super upbeat and loud. He taps something on the screen and finally lowers his arm to his side. ‘Hi Sam. I’m Keshawn,’ he says with none of the sparkle I heard a second ago and no explanation for his strange behavior.
‘Who were you talking to?’ I ask.
‘My VibePool,’ he sighs. His phone makes a cheering sound, and he stretches his arm in front of him again, stares at the lens, and says, ‘Hey guys. Results are in.’ The chipper TV host voice is back. ‘It’s Italian tonight. Good job. Now, head over to the menu and start voting on my app and entree. Oh, and don’t forget, I need to reach one thousand Vibe Points, and I’ll let you all get a look at my date for the night.’ He looks over at me. ‘And he’s cute in a very interesting way. You’ll definitely want to take a peek, so vibe it in. Back in a few.’ He lowers his arm. Am I being auctioned off on some website? I have got to review my mother’s screening process.
‘Looks like they voted for Cafe Rosso,’ he says, limply gesturing toward the restaurant’s red-and-white awning across the street. ‘You down with that? It was a super strong vibe – like an eighty-twenty split.’
‘Sure.’ I don’t know what else to say so I follow him into the place.
Inside Cafe Rosso, we sit at a table in the outdoor courtyard. Checkered tablecloths and bottles of red wine wrapped with wicker on the bottom add to the charm. It’s a totally normal place to go on a date – except maybe with this guy.
‘Keshawn, I’m sorry,’ I begin as he scrolls through his phone. ‘I have no idea what Vibe Points are?’
‘Oh no,’ he says, looking up from his phone. ‘Did my assistant not email you? Marta was supposed to brief you and have you sign the NDA. Crap. Let me check Slack. This must seem so weird.’
‘Yeah, actually super weird.’ At least he acknowledges the situation, so it’s a step in the right direction.
‘Dang. I forgot she’s in Taiwan this week.’ He taps his forehead with his fingers. Hard. ‘It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I’m screwing everything up this week.’ He taps his forehead again, even harder.
‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘We all have weeks like that.’ I notice a pronounced vein on his forehead is quivering.
‘No, it’s not okay,’ he says, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands into tight fists. ‘I’m the founder of VibeTyme. Have you heard of it?’ he asks. I shake my head, which freaks him out more. ‘Really? It’s tyme with a y. T-Y-M-E.’
‘Cute,’ I say. ‘But no.’
‘Crap,’ he says and hits his forehead again. My lack of awareness of VibeTyme is clearly stressing him out.
‘I’m barely on social media. You can’t go by me. I have an AOL account I still use.’
‘VibeTyme is an online social media platform where users get to determine the everyday actions of the people they follow. Damn, I asked my assistant to brief you on all this.’
‘It’s okay,’ I say, which is the opposite of the truth, but this guy is clearly on the brink of a meltdown, and I don’t want to contribute to some kind of stroke.
His phone cheers, and he lifts his arm above him. ‘Hey, guys!’ he says, his voice elevated. ‘The Vibes are in, and it looks like we’re having the calamari frito to start and penne ala vodka for me and eggplant parm for my date. Now keep those Vibe Points coming in if you want to get a look at him.’
‘Your followers are voting on what we eat and if they get to see me?’
‘I hope that’s okay. Do you like eggplant parm? You can order something else. You’ll just have to eat it off-camera so they don’t see. The chicken marsala came in third if you want to try that.’ The server comes over and Keshawn orders a bottle of wine. ‘Do you want anything to drink?’ he asks.
‘I’m fine with wine,’ I say.
‘That bottle is for me. I can get you your own bottle if you want,’ he says, turning to the server. ‘Please make that two of the pinot noir. Thank you.’
‘You ordered us each an entire bottle of wine?’ I ask.
‘Running this startup is really, really stressful.’ I look more closely at Keshawn who is very attractive but on further inspection I notice his brown eyes look bloodshot from staring at a monitor, no doubt, and he’s chewed his fingernails down to an unhealthy level. ‘I’ll need a bottle of wine to get through tonight. I have investors hounding me. They’re looking at the numbers of each interaction. I was trending up but then I started to trend down. I thought seeing me on a date might help but these numbers are weak.’
‘I’m not sure I want to have this entire night on social media. Can’t we just have dinner?’
‘Bro, no,’ he says, his voice a desperate plea. ‘I can’t do that. Please. It’s October. I can’t start the quarter down.’ His face looks like he might explode. ‘Bro, please. Seriously. I’m begging you.’
The server comes back, and he pours a glass of wine for each of us from the first of two bottles he places on the table. Keshawn grabs his glass and chugs the entire thing, and then fills it up again. ‘I need to get some traction on this app or else…’ His phone makes that cheering sound, and he picks it up, stretches his arm out, and his entire demeanor changes. He’s no longer on the brink of a breakdown. ‘Hey, guys! Looks like we just broke 900, but we need at least a hundred more to get to the next Vibe Point. So, keep them coming, and I’ll be back.’ His shiny, sunny personality switches off. He lowers his arm, and then his entire upper body slumps forward until his head is on the table in front of me. I think maybe he’s crying, but I can’t tell.
I look around the restaurant and notice a few people glance over at us with looks of concern. I smile pleasantly, as if to say my date has not had a cardiac episode before the antipasto. Then I hear gentle sobs coming from Keshawn. He is definitely crying. I have no idea what to do. I just met this guy, and I want to get out of this whole situation, but I can’t leave him here like this. Then I hear that weird cheering sound coming from his phone. I expect that to perk him up, but it doesn’t. He remains face down, weeping into the tablecloth. His phone cheers again. Then again. And again.
‘Don’t you want to get that? Maybe you reached your goal,’ I say but he just lets out a burst of tears without sitting up. The phone cheers. He is either too distraught to get up or the wine is kicking in, but I don’t want him to screw up his entire business, so I pick up his phone and see a big 1k badge glowing. I tap it, and suddenly, I’m staring into the camera, and I see my face through a stream of chat messages that people are sending. Are you the date? He’s kind of cute. He’s mid. Where’s Keshawn? Order the tiramisu! The phone rings with each message. At first, the rhythm is slow, but then it grows faster and faster.
The sounds must make Keshawn realize what’s going on. He picks up his head, wipes the tears from his eyes, looks at me and mouths, ‘Thank you.’ I hand him the phone and he transforms himself again. ‘Hey guys! Awesome. You did it! But we need to keep raising the Vibe…’
Keshawn spends the rest of the night alternately rousing his followers into ‘making more vibe’, whatever that means, and weeping loudly with his head on the table. In between bouts of cheers and tears, he explains that he’s been working on developing the platform since he graduated from MIT and has sunk his entire life into it. I admire his dedication and sympathize with his distress, so I go along with it. I’m just trying to get through this night but somewhere after the calamari Keshawn leaps up from the table and screams, ‘Crap!’ Everyone in the restaurant stops to look over at us.
‘What’s wrong? Did something happen to the vibe?’ The words sound as ridiculous coming out of my mouth as I thought they would.
‘The server crashed. I told Gary we needed to take it offline before we…’ He looks at his phone, tapping the screen so hard I think it might break. ‘No, no, no.’ Keshawn keeps staring at his phone and walks out the door without so much as a glance in my direction. He leaves me alone at the table with everyone’s eyes still on me, a bottle and a half of wine, two entrees and one big fat check.